Nineteen
by nicene27
Summary: It had only been nineteen years since the end of the war and so much had changed...


_Summary: It had only been nineteen years since the end of the war and so much had changed._

_Disclaimer: Some lines in the first chapter of this story were intentionally chosen from the epilogue of D/H; while I don't expect to use lines from any other part of any of the books, I still just want to make it clear that this story was written for enjoyment, not profit. I don't own HP, I'm just borrowing the characters to play with._

_A/N: This isn't a one-shot, but the first chapter of a collection of vignettes; I'll upload the next chapter tomorrow. Also, it is important to keep in mind that the chapters won't be in chronological order (so it makes it more of a puzzle to figure everything out), and that the fic follows canon facts and then branches off. I hope you like it!_

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The chill in the air only served to encourage the frantic activity of King's Cross station. Everywhere, bedraggled commuters inwardly cursed the day's unexpected heavy traffic and outwardly scrambled to push and heave carts of extraordinarily large baggage in the right directions.

A picturesque family of five caught the attentions of already frenzied onlookers; after all, it wasn't everyday that someone strolled into the train station with an owl. A cacophonous chorus of hoots alerted the busy crowds that there were at least two of the such birds housed in the pristine cages atop the family's trolleys, and more than one disgruntled servicemen shot them a harassed look upon jerking at the birds' shrill calls, effectively dropping luggage. But the little family was unaware, or at least uncaring, of the stares they garnered and, in a momentary lull in the hustle and bustle of pedestrians and metal carts, abruptly disappeared from view between the crowds gathered at platforms nine and ten.

The family emerged onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by thick white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Indistinct figures were swarming through the mist, and the hazy outlines of should-be necks and heads swiveled one way and the next, searching out something, someone, that was recognizable and real in the surreal landscape of cottony vapor.

The family made their way down the platform.

"Where are they?" asked Albus anxiously, peering at the hazy forms they passed, and Harry was grateful that Rose Weasley would be going off on her first year to Hogwarts as well; his son certainly needed the comfort of a friendly, familiar face. James…was familiar, but not necessarily friendly to Albus. He sighed and once again reminded himself of Ginny's comfort that it was natural for brothers to act in such a way. As the youngest of the Weasley clan and the only girl to boot, Ginny understood perfectly the ritualistic dynamic of growing up with siblings (an experience that Harry did not have), in which the youngest was often tormented by the older.

Ginny reassured her youngest son that they would soon appear, but the vapor was dense and it was difficult to make out anybody's faces. Detached from their owners, voices sounded unnaturally loud. Harry skirted away from what he thought was Percy's bossy tone, relieved that they were on a mission of sorts and had an excuse not to stop and chat. They continued walking as a unit, and Harry held his daughter Lily closer to his side. It was an unconscious act of paternal instinct, but truly there was something disconcerting about the rolling fog, enveloping his family's form and the forms of all the fellow families around them, something hovering through the fog and filthy air.

"I think that's them, Al," said Ginny suddenly, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

A group of four people emerged from the mist, standing alongside the very last carriage. They seemed to appear from nowhere, like bubbles arisen from the earth, and Harry swiped at his glasses with his sleeve, clearing off a bit of the condensation that had fogged his view. Their faces only came into focus when Harry, Ginny, Lily, and Albus had drawn right up to them.

Albus happily greeted Rose, who smiled in return, and swished a little from side to side in her new Hogwarts robes, sending her unruly dark auburn locks flying in every direction. Hermione smiled fondly at her daughter's enthusiasm, remembering her own eagerness to attend Hogwarts as a first year. The magical world, outside of the texts she hungrily devoured, had seemed a mystery to her at that age, but Rose had grown up in it, knew what to expect.

"Parked all right, then?" Ron asked Harry. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."

Hermione struggled a bit not to retort what she _really_ thought of his driving abilities. This was just typical Ron, she reminded herself, trying to make himself seem superior, fishing for any compliments; with effort, she could keep up the light atmosphere that should be present on such an important day in her daughter's life. In her own life, too…she would miss Rose dearly, and the thought made her clutch a little tighter to Hugo's hand.

"No, I didn't," she responded, "I had complete faith in you."

But he was already gone into the mist. She watched as Harry and Ron set off together to load the kids' trunks and assorted animals onto the train, and made small talk with Ginny. When the pair of men returned, they found Lily and Hugo, Rose's younger brother, having an animated discussion about which House they would be sorted into when they finally went to Hogwarts.

"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," Ron said jokingly as he directed his gaze at Rose, but Hermione suspected that the joking was really only at the surface of his statement. "But no pressure."

"_Ron!_"

She was somewhat relieved that Lily and Hugo laughed, but Albus and Rose suddenly looked solemn in the shifting steam.

"He doesn't mean it," she and Ginny hastily amended, but Ron was no longer paying attention. Something had caught his eye and when Hermione looked over at the huddled forms of three people a short distance away, she knew that today would be trying on her patience beyond expectation.

"So that's little Scorpius," muttered Ron. "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie." Here, he smirked. "Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."

_At least he recognizes who they belong to._

"Ron, for heaven's sake," and it took every ounce of Hermione's limited patience to maintain a passably amused tone, "don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!" She reflected that Ron probably didn't really store any malice behind his words, loathe Malfoy though he did, but that didn't stop her from wincing at his careless words. You would think that he, of all people, would not to try to encourage the kind of unfounded animosity that had fueled such destruction and depravity in their own generation of wizards and witches, in the generation before it. It had only been nineteen years since the end of the war and so much had changed.

She tuned in again as Ron continued to poke fun at the Malfoys, unable to help himself.

So much had stayed the same, too.

Harry's son James reappeared, and the group continued to make light conversation until Harry checked his watch. Hermione looked down at her own, letting go of Hugo's small hand.

"It's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board," Harry announced. Hermione quickly looked over at Rose, who seemed only excited about the adventure awaiting her. _Well_, Hermione thought, _she might not be worried, but I'm twisted in knots_. She couldn't imagine that she wouldn't be seeing her beautiful first-born until the holiday break. Although all had been well since Voldemort's demise, it still terrified her to think of all the dangers she had faced Rose's same age in school. What if she got tangled into an adventure she was not ready for, or encountered a rogue Death Eater while away and alone…or simply came home and declared that she preferred spending her time at Hogwarts? That was the thought that truly scared Hermione, that made her want to grab Rose and proclaim that she was already smart; she could afford to wait another year.

But at that moment Rose turned and beamed at her mother, her sensitive hazel eyes telling her quite clearly that she knew she worried but everything would be fine. The ten year-old approached her mother and the steam parted. Hermione hugged her tight. "I love you," Hermione sniffled, her eyes a little teary. "We'll write every week, to tell you about your brother and Sofia."

"I love you too, Mum." Rose looked around and leaned in a little further to whisper in her mother's ear "Give Papa a hug from me." Hermione's heart clenched but Rose was already walking away to say farewell to her dad. Ron seemed reluctant to hug his only daughter goodbye and when he looked up and the steam thinned for a moment, their eyes met across the mist and they understood each other perfectly. This, at least, was common ground for the two of them: Their daughter was more important than anything else in their lives. They may still have some issues originating long before the divorce, but everything came second after Rosie.

Too soon, it seemed, Rose was kissing Hugo's cheek goodbye and he was attempting to wipe it away thoroughly with a "Yuck, sestra!"

Rose boarded the Hogwarts Express and was soon joined by Albus. With a final joke courtesy of Ron, that even Hermione had to admit was funny, the train began to move, taking Rose, Albus and James with it. Harry kept smiling and waving, as did Hermione and Ron, though Ginny was preoccupied comforting a tearful Lily.

Hermione gazed down at her son's dark-haired head as he jumped about like a little grasshopper, frantically waving his sister goodbye. Hermione marveled at how much he looked like his father, all wavy black hair, high cheekbones, and warm chocolate eyes. Even over the sweater she had insisted he wear, he sported his favorite old Quidditch jersey, the crimson color slightly faded from all the times it had been washed.

Harry put his arm around Ginny, who held Lily's hand. At last, Ron looked a little uncomfortable amidst this scene of glaring family affection. Harry and Ginny shared a look that married couples have a tendency to, clearly communicating between themselves that now was not the time to interfere. "We'll be heading out then. See you later, Ron. Tomorrow, Hermione."

"Bye, Hugo!" Lily instantly brightened as she bid farewell to her friend. "Remember, tomorrow I get to sleep over!" She directed a quick pout at her father, "You promised."

Ginny stifled a chuckle at her daughter's antics as Harry sighed and reminded her that he had not said anything to the contrary…"Providing you eat your vegetables tonight."

The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air as the three wove their way through the crowded platform. Hermione watched them go until Hugo tugged at her blouse. "Can we go now, Mama?"

Ron, who had been unsuccessfully trying to blend into the fading steam up to that moment, shot a small smile at Hugo. He looked up at Hermione. "Do you need a ride home, Hermione? I'm not headed to Lavender's 'til later."

Hermione smiled softly, grateful for the times when they could be civil to one another. Ron liked Hugo, who even six years-old was as much a Quidditch fanatic as he was. "Thanks, Ron, but we're getting picked up from the station." She glanced at the now almost deserted platform and the last few families who were lingering on the spot as though it might bring the train back around the corner. "We should start back now. Come on, Hugo," she said as she reached for his hand.

But the little boy was quick and already dashing back to the barrier that would lead them to the space between platforms nine and ten. Hermione sighed and Ron gave her a tentative smile, both feeling sufficiently awkward. They walked briskly, finally breaking into a short run as they passed the barrier.

Hermione's heart hammered against her chest as she caught her breath and ruefully acknowledged that she was not yet, perhaps, in the best condition to, say, chase her son through a magical concrete wall. She composed herself and instantly looked around to spot Hugo. Ron was making small talk with a serviceman, asking for driving directions back to Ottery St. Catchpole, no doubt.

There was an incredible amount of activity in the train station in the afternoon, and people navigated themselves like harried, dysfunctional schools of fish, all clamoring to get one way first, then another. Before she could even take a step into the busy crowds, there was Viktor, at her side, a precious bundle swathed in periwinkle cradled against his chest. His other arm clasped Hugo's hand in a gentle grip. Hermione's eyes softened at the sight of her family.

Viktor gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Sofia vas beginning to vorry vhen you take long." He smiled impishly but the relief was clear in his dark brown eyes.

"Sofia, huh?" Hermione giggled but played along nonetheless. She reached to carry the baby gently stirring in her father's embrace. "Now is that right, sweetie? Were you worried, hm?" The baby smiled in her sleep and cooed dreamily. "I guess that's a yes."

"And Rosie? Did she get on train okay, did you make sure all her things vere on, too? You tell her ve write everyday, right?"

Hermione smiled at how his grammar could fly out the window when he was anxious.

"Papa, I want to go home," Hugo reminded him as they continued to dawdle in the station. Viktor grinned down at his son and nodded. The family began walking away when both Viktor and Hermione spotted Ron at a few feet's distance. It looked like Ron had been planning on approaching Hermione after getting his directions, but now both men simply nodded at each other, a curt, somewhat forced movement. The air was suddenly tense around them and it brought to Hermione's mind all the rolling steam that had clouded her vision on the platform. She watched as Ron pealed away in another direction and Viktor distracted himself by asking Hugo about his sister's departure.

Sofia moved to rest a tiny palm against Hermione's beating heart. Her periwinkle form stirred slightly before settling into what promised to be a deep sleep, and once again she cooed lightly and happily, a sound that had Viktor instantly whipping his head around as he and Hugo walked a little ahead of Hermione and the baby. They shared identical goofy smiles and a look that married couples have a tendency to, clearly communicating between themselves how incredibly lucky they were.

They made their way out of the station finally, and into the sunshine, headed home.

_To be continued..._


End file.
